


shadow of a doubt

by spira



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Buddy Cops, Character Study, Character and relationship tags will be added as introduced, Espionage, POV Alternating, Psychological, long fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 17:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9195617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spira/pseuds/spira
Summary: Hanzo Shimada and Hana Song are two acting covert operatives for the slowly recovering Overwatch collective. The duo has been placed in Los Angeles with the expressed purpose of investigating Talon and its prominent agent Reaper. Hanzo's performance on the mission, however, is soon compromised by a recurring dream he increasingly becomes plagued with, while Hana sets out to prove someone wrong.





	

 

His eyes began to slow. They felt like egg yolks scraping against rough concrete. His eyes opened and turned to the roof above him, where he stared for what he assumed was several minutes. Eventually, he turned to look at his phone — it was 3 AM. Four hours before he had set his alarm. For now, the biting draft of his dusty room was preferable to sleep — to the terrors of the night.

Finally coming into full consciousness, he heard a faint noise from the other side of his wall. He felt he had a fair guess as to what it was. He rose from his futon, realizing he had fallen asleep in his clothes, and stepped into the hallway. He rapped at the door next to his three sharp times, then folded his hands rather impatiently.

There was no answer, but he could hear the noise as clear as fish hopping in a lake now. A sweet aroma cloying to the nose wafted from the door's cracks, making his nose crinkle and his patience wear even thinner.

"Hana!"

His voice was a quiet shout, like a mother crying to her child in the night.

"The door's unlocked."

A tiny voice replied with more bite than a cornered wolverine. It was said almost as if the solution was obvious — perhaps it was to those of plainer thought. With a huff, he opened the door. It was much warmer than his own, or the hallway — Hana had filled the space she was provided to near capacity, despite Hanzo's sparse hovel of a space. He told himself (and others, often) that he he preferred to live minimally, but he knew instead, at least in part, that he simply didn't have much.

Hana was sprawled out on the floor, the futon's mattress half on its spring and half cascaded onto the ground. She was reclined onto it, tapping away at buttons on a handheld game console. She looked nonplussed.

"What's up, Hanjo?"

"Hanzo."

A polite enough correction.

"Right, Hanzo." She popped a whole snack cake in her mouth. "What are you doing up? I always got the vibe you were one of those, like, early to bed early to rise types." Her words were garbled from chewing.

Hanzo's nose crinkled even further. He shut his eyes.

"Even I have difficulty sleeping.. at times."

"Pfft. Well, you aren't the only one I guess." Hana's eyes rarely strayed from her CRT monitor.

"That is a rather old TV."

He wasn't one for small talk, not usually, but he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep anyway. He didn't want to.

"Brought it from home. It probably makes you nostalgic, seeing as it's for sure older than you! If you look reaaaally closely, you notice the frames more. Makes it a lot easier to play Smash Bros."

Hanzo peeked at the monitor, but all his keen eyes detected was a horrible diffusion of light and color. It was hard for him to think of something he was truly less interested in. Yet he knew the alternative was less desirable than feigning involvement in Hana's unfamiliar world. He thought that, perhaps, it wasn't that Hana was uninteresting, or even took part in garish or pointless hobbies, but that he had not allowed himself much time to broaden himself outside of what he had grown to think was what he was meant to be invested in.

For the sake of moving along their conversation, this is what he would tell himself. He went to speak, but soon found himself interrupted.

"I know what you're thinking, Hanjo."

Hanzo bit his lip so as not to correct her. By now, he realized she knew his real name — she just loved his bitter corrections.

"Oh?"

"You're thinking "why would they pick D.Va, /the/ D.Va, for this super covert, super important mission. Why not, I dunno, the one eyed Cucco lady?"

"I'm unsure who you—"

"Gonna stop you there. 'Cause I'm sick of everyone interrupting me, and underestimating me. You'll see, /Hanjo/, don't worry."

"... I believe I've unintentionally offended you. I apologize."

Rather than completely crush the eggshells he was stepping through, he decided it might be best to evacuate. For now. He bowed his head respectfully as he faded into the shadows of their shared loft.

If he was being honest, he really did wonder why Hana was here. He felt it was much too dangerous for someone as young — as green — as her. But he knew he was merely hired help, a mercenary agent — he had no say in who he was placed with, no matter how old or young. He had grown used to operating as a solitary unit in the past. Not necessarily because he preferred it — he thought the path of loneliness was the quicker path to redemption.

He contemplated how he might amend his perceived wrongdoing to Hana as he slinked back towards sleeplessness.


End file.
